


A Lapse In Judgment

by Elzzif99



Series: Manifest Destiny [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Drama, Eventual Explicit sexual content, Eventual Smut, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Prequel, Relationship Growing Pains, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 09:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elzzif99/pseuds/Elzzif99
Summary: At age nineteen, Michael Burnham has grown up and in six months' time, will set sail as the newly promoted captain of the Shenzhou. Captain Lorca is charged with protecting his soon-to-be former pupil while she's on vacation, and tempers flare as the two struggle to navigate the changing dynamic of their relationship.When Michael unexpectedly goes missing, Gabriel has to come to terms with how much the young woman means to him.A Manifest Destiny prequel, reflecting how the emperor's closest advisor fell for the heir to the throne.
Relationships: Mirror Michael Burnham/Gabriel Lorca | Mirror Gabriel Lorca
Series: Manifest Destiny [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210895
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	A Lapse In Judgment

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! It's been a while, huh? For those of you who haven't read MD, it isn't a requirement to read this fic, but they are connected. Also yes, I'm currently working on chapter five of Manifest Destiny. Enjoy!

"I can't believe mother actually allowed me to go on vacation. But she could've at least let me go _without_ my royal babysitter."

Fiery brown eyes scowl knowingly at Gabriel over her black vintage eye shields.

What were they called again? Sunglasses?

"Michael,” he sighs, “we've been over this-"

"Your Highness," she interjects as they walk through the bustling city center, headed to their hotel. He bites his tongue, closing his eyes and reminding himself to breathe to keep from telling her off.

Recently, Philippa had informed her daughter that she was allowed leave for a few days, under the condition that she be accompanied by Gabriel. She’d also told Michael that upon her upcoming birthday, she’d be promoted to captain.

In six months, Michael would be twenty and he would no longer serve as her mentor. Unexpectedly, she’d taken the news as justification for doing as she damn well pleased and treating him like he was slime on her boots. In public she was still deferential, enough to not fall under serious scrutiny, but still not up to the courteous standard their relationship had previously held. In private, she was downright disrespectful; constantly on edge and talking back to him, turning every subject into a disagreement.

Her sudden shift in demeanor toward him rankled more than he wanted to admit, and had whittled his nerves down to nothing. For the first time since taking her under his wing, he was almost looking forward to being rid of her.

" _Your Highness_ ," he sneers, eyes flashing with annoyance, "even though you're quite capable of taking care of yourself, it'd be flirting with disaster to send you here alone. You _refuse_ to carry a weapon while we’re here, and I can’t have the jewel of the empire trafficked into a sex ring or worse,” he asserts, a bit of dread creeping into his gut at the thought.

They’d been given intraocular retinal stabilizers and shipped off to her chosen destination of Risa, the tropical pleasure planet. The lively capital, Nuvia, was home to multiple resorts, festivals, and a buzzing nightlife, which provided plenty of ground to cover for his headstrong protégée. It was also a hub of seedy underground activity, and Gabriel was doing his best to make sure they didn’t end up entangled in it.

"Do you realize how insane I’d look carrying my daggers or a phaser while wearing this?” she says, indicating her skimpy attire. "Aside from personnel on the _Charon_ and _Buran_ , no one in the empire is even sure what I look like, thanks to my sheltered life under you, and mother’s propaganda campaign. If I'm outfitted as just another tourist and behave like I belong, then I will. Isn’t that Lorca-ism number 856 or some such?” she scoffs, winging a brow at him.

“You're the one who numbers them, so you tell me. Assuming that your plan of hiding in plain sight is successful, it's still dangerous to underestimate how informed your enemy is. You're being reckless and you know it," he chides.

He gives her a quick once-over, taking in the effect of her radiant, sepia complexion against the minimalist, white bikini she’s wearing. It fits immaculately and she’s accessorized it with a thin, gold body chain that emphasizes her tiny waist and flat stomach. The ensemble is completed by a bright, multicolored pareo wrapped around her hips and decorative leather sandals.

 _Delicate,_ he thinks, _and_ _too much of a target._

He clears his throat and averts his gaze. “Not to mention that half-dressed, attractive, young women don’t make the best deterrents. If you were abducted, your mother would destroy every planet in the quadrant hunting for you.”

_And after she uses me to find you, she’ll kill me for losing you in the first place._

“Is that your way of saying I’m pretty? Because I’ve heard better,” Michael says, a thoroughly unimpressed look settling on her face. “You just said that I can take care of myself. This is _the_ pleasure planet, and I can’t find a lover to _fuck_ on our last day here if you're looming behind me and scaring them away," she complains.

“If they're scared off that easily, then they aren't worth your time. You’re welcome.”

She lets out a huff of frustration and stomps off, her shorter stride setting off at a brisk walk to put some distance between them. He watches her swaying hips a moment before following, sticking his hands in his pockets to trail her at a leisurely pace.

"You know what I mean,” she accuses over her shoulder when he’s within earshot. "You're supposedly doing me a favor, when in reality you're being hypocritical. Should I start policing your activity with your whores on the _Charon_?" 

His mouth tightens, eyebrows lowering and the skin between them puckering at her brazen commentary on his sex life. He and his string of lovers were usually discreet and for simplicity’s sake, he never dealt with more than one at a time.

_Had one of them been sloppy? Or had Michael been her typical investigative self and stuck her nose where it shouldn’t have been?_

She glances at him, a malicious smirk on her face and continues, "You're not the only one who can play games, captain. If you weren't busy hounding me so badly, you might've found someone to entertain you by now. Another tramp to add to your collection."

Her barbs hit precisely where she wants and he barely stops himself from retorting; he can't afford to give her an advantage. Several appreciative glances had been directed his way since they'd arrived, but he’d ignored them and steadfastly kept his focus on his charge. "What I do on my own time has never been your business. I don't neglect my duties, especially when they concern you, so stop asking me to do otherwise.”

_It’s almost over._

_By morning we’ll be on the Charon, where I don’t have to watch her every move and can catch a break from this attitude. Might see if Ellen is up for some fun later._

“It's been a while since lunch. Let’s get something to eat,” Gabriel mutters, walking in the direction of the nearest food stalls. 

She follows him irritably. "I’m not hungry. And I wasn’t asking, I’m _telling_ you. Go find _someone_. Maybe they can dislodge the stick from your ass and we'll both be better off for the remainder of this vacation. Risians are known for their sexual freedom. You might learn something and it’s better than playing nanny to me."

Suddenly, her stomach rumbles loudly and a look of startled embarrassment crosses her face. He looks at her, eyebrows high on his forehead and lips twisted in a ‘you were saying?’ expression that’s aggravatingly familiar.

"Um, on second thought, could you get some Tellurian empanadas?” she asks sheepishly. “And more of those conch fritters? Oh and that orange drink from this morning? The Makara fizz. I'll wait at the hotel." 

_And just like that, the right hand of the emperor is reduced to errand boy by a spoiled nineteen-year-old._

"Fine. When I get there we can eat, then attend the _Lohlunat_ you were so worked up about. I'll walk you to the hotel first though." He could keep track of her there remotely via the hotel’s security feed.

The little bit of chivalry is what breaks the last straw for her and she whirls around to unleash her ire on him. " _Damn it, Gabriel!_ This is ridiculous!” she rages, whipping her shades atop her head and getting in his face, a skinny finger jabbing him in the chest.

“Weapon or not, your constant hovering automatically makes it appear that I’m _weak_! If someone who can identify me wanted to carry out a kidnapping, they’d have no trouble finding me! ‘There’s Michael Burnham - heir apparent to the empire and too cowardly to go anywhere without her trusted lackey, Captain Lorca!’" she fumes.

The air between them turns glacial as they scowl at each other, a muscle twitching in his jaw and a vein throbbing in her forehead. The sunny, crowded scene of tourists talking, laughing and wandering in all directions clashes harshly with their standoff. A few passersby are bold enough to be curious, watching them with increasing interest, and he feels his ears heat with embarrassment.

Gabriel grabs her hand and uses it to lead her to a more secluded corner of the plaza, Michael resisting him the entire way. He swings her around and backs her into a wall, caging her with his arms. “I’m not your fucking _lackey_ , little girl,” he hisses, blue eyes electrified with fury as she tries to push against his heavier frame. “You’re missing the simple truth of this. I trust _you_. I don’t trust them.” He pointedly glares toward the random people milling around them before meeting her eyes again. “You’re on vacation, but someone waiting for an opportunity to harm you _isn’t_.”

Even angry, he can’t help but notice how good she smells, her coconut-scented moisturizer blending with traces of sweat and sea salt from their earlier trip to the beach. Her skin glows alluringly, highlighted by the orangey-red tones of sunset and the tight, curly spirals of her hair have fanned out to frame her face.

She’d started growing it out a few years ago and it was now down to her shoulders.

It suited her.

“You must think I’m stupid.” She shoots him a dirty look and ducks beneath his arm to move away. “You’re telling me this like I haven’t heard the same teachings since I was ten! And how _dare_ you call me _little girl!_ Don’t forget I have the ability to make your life _hell_ , you overbearing bastard!” she snaps, abruptly swiveling to stalk away from him. 

“Then don’t act like one!” he shouts after her, rubbing his eyes tiredly and feeling a headache coming on. His comment only antagonizes her, because now she’s speed-walking fast enough that he has to jog to catch up with her.

He reaches toward her, his hand wrapping around her slim wrist and the sudden halt of her momentum has her falling into him. “When did you become such a brute?! Let go of me!” she demands, twisting her arm to try to wriggle out of his hold.

“Hey, you need some help, miss?”

_Fantastic. Exactly what we need._

Gabriel narrows his eyes hatefully at the tourist who’s sizing him up, glancing from him to Michael and back again.

_Bajoran trash. One of the nosy bystanders from our earlier spat._

Michael’s eyes lock onto his and she must’ve read the warning in his gaze, because after a few seconds she turns to the other man. “I’m fine,” she replies flatly and tries to reclaim her wrist.

This time Gabriel drops it.

“Are you sure?” the stranger says, stepping forward and reaching out as if to touch Michael.

With the grace and speed of a panther, Lorca moves swiftly to stand in between them, intercepting the man's outstretched fingers and jerking them to the side sharply. Several cracks follow the motion and the Bajoran drops to his knees, screaming. Gabriel observes him dispassionately as he cradles his hand, the broken phalanges sticking out at odd angles.

“This doesn’t have to be the day you die, but it’s your call,” he growls menacingly, his right hand readying the phaser at his hip.

“You asshole! Look at my hand! I came over here to help her, because it looked like you were an abusive prick.”

Michael steps out from behind Gabriel, coming to rest at his side. “That’s odd. I don’t recall asking for any assistance.” There’s a mischievous lilt to her voice, but her eyes are cold as she looks down on the aspiring white knight. “ _Leave_. He’s not a nice man,” her tone snide as she tilts her head to indicate the captain, “and if you keep this up, you’ll wish you never laid eyes on him.”

The guy gawks at her in disbelief that quickly turns into trepidation. Without another word, he picks himself up and hurriedly departs, his broken hand tucked securely against his chest.

Michael turns to stare at Gabriel contemplatively for a few moments, her lips twitching. “You sounded like some over the top, villainous actor.”

“You were no better. Damn near bragging over the fact that I’d have killed him, all because of you. Chaos personified.”

A clever smile briefly cracks through her restraint. “Without me, your life would be a dull series of fighting and fucking, Gabriel.”

Still upset with her, he doesn’t find the humor in her joke and her smile fades, replaced by a more serious mien. “ _Please_?” she asks softly. “It’s a short walk from here to the penthouse.” Her eyes are trained on him intently, big and brown, imploring him to give her some space. She rarely ever said please, but when she did, it nearly always worked in her favor. “I’ll be fine while you pick up the food.”

_I could have it delivered. But that would tick her off and we’re back to square one. Maybe she’s right. We have been stuck together 24/7 and I’ve been breathing down her neck the whole time…_

"You have your communicator on you?" 

Sensing victory, her face brightens and she nods eagerly while whipping the device out to show him. 

"Fine. Ring me when you get inside. You have thirty minutes before I ping your location. Don't make me regret this," he warns. 

"Yes sir," she chirps excitedly. She rises on tiptoe and pecks his jaw, her soft lips abraded by his few days’ worth of stubble, and her entire face is lit with glee as she saunters off in the direction of their resort. 

He rolls his eyes and turns to head the opposite way, mouth curving into a small smile as he touches the spot her lips brushed.


End file.
